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The door to Quickswitch's quarters is ajar as if he forgot to close it. Inside, the multiformer robot is sitting on the floor meditating, surrounded by what looks to be a total tornado of a mess being in the process of cleaned up for the millionth time. He sits with his optics dimmed, appearing, on the surface at least, serene and centered. Feint isn't one to be rude - she's new to this 'Senate Elect' thing, and in fact, can trace her rather humble origins to the mines of Kaon as a disposable scout. Therefore: She has some consideration for others. She raps her knuckles against the side of Quick's door frame, trying to get his attention before speaking. The sound penetrates the sixchanger's mental focus- such as it is- his optics burn brighter once more and he transforms to another mode and then finally to robot mode to stand- his way of going about it. Without turning around he utters, "Enter." A much smaller (read: Bumblebee sized) fembot enters Quickswitch's quarters; she puts her hands together in front and bows politely, despite the Senate emblem on a chain around her neck. She's still not used to being the one /receiving/ bows instead of /giving/ them. In fact, she even keeps her optics to the ground as she speaks. Perhaps Quick will know what that means, perhaps he won't; it's a behavior exhibited by the lowest caste, reserved for slaves and beasts. "Greetings, honored guardsmech. My name is Feint." And it would be a behavior half-expected of himself despite his caste...he turns around in time to see the bow and favors her with a nod--painfully given and the nearest thing to a bow he can muster to the obviously lower-caste femme- though it's not her fault.. "Greetings," Quickswitch says genially if mutely, then stops. His mouth becomes a straight line, face grim, "What brings you to the Decagon?" "Well, get to it," he snaps, finding himself suddenly irritated, "What does the Senate want with me /now/?" Feint notices the moodiness right away. "Well," she says calmly, taking no offense, "I'm learning medicine and psychology, for one; for another, I simply wanted to see how you were doing. I understand that it can be very lonely in this type of intense training. While I am not as restricted as you in where I go and what I do, believe me, I understand the loneliness. I've had my noseplating in databooks for months now, with little time to see anyone else." For a scant moment Quickswitch's mind and face is darkly turned inward, thoughts of the functionist council and the Senate flooding his mind. She wants to study me! No FRAGGIN WAY is that happening! He folds his arms over his chest and begins to turn away, to dismiss her as the lower caste she -must- be.. but then another sudden inconsistancy and a very soft voice, "..you do?" Quickswitch stops turning away and looks down at the mini-femme. "I understand you have some surgical scars?" Feint asks, rather abruptly broaching the subject, now looking up at Quick. There's no haughtiness, no slippery, deceiving words - she looks as if she really just wants to know, and perhaps, is concerned about that. Quickswitch stares at her, numb confusion and momentary terror fleeting and fleeing in his optics, "Yes.." his mood, so taut and turbulant it's difficult to tell whether he's accepting of her inqiry or angry or fearful. He raises his hand to his helm, as much to try to quiet his turbulant head as to indicate where the scars are, "I got when they--" he all but whispers the word, so hateful, so vulnerable, "--altered me." "You're like my endura, then," Feint says, stepping closer to Quickswitch. She risks reaching out to him, and trying to place a hand on his arm to console him. "Do you think you can keep a secret for me?" The sixchanger shakes as Feint's hand comes to rest on his arm, "I.. I think so.." "I'm learning how to -undo- what they are doing to the heads of others," Feint says softly. "There is a real use for helping mechs and femmes with psychological injuries, but they are -abusing- medicine in order to force what should not be. I want to learn who you are, and how to help you.... because I'm trapped, too." "Have I -ever- heard that one before," Quick says, suddenly caustic and pulling away from Feint's hand, "You want to learn all about me, what makes me tick, transform a few times for us Quickswitch will you?" he sneers, trembles still, and then, "..but you sound like you really do want to help.." Trapped..? "Trapped how," he says abruptly. "I'm an outlier," Feint explains. Quickswitch's mouth falls open slowly. Even he, the point-one-percenter with many modes, is no outlier. His optics widen, "Really," he says incredulously, the tremble gone as quickly as it had once appeared. "I see -everything-," Feint explains. "Through the walls, the floor, the bodies of mechs and femmes; I can see the color of your spark and the turning of your t-cog. I can see Prowl in his office seven flights up - he's so fussy about his paperwork!" She giggles a little, raising a hand to her mouth. "But yes. I've been inside the place they called the Institute - they tried to take me there to take me apart and study how my sensors worked. In fact, I was bought out of the mines by a mech named Solvent - he was going to vivisect me for his final medical project." Quickswitch takes this all in, wondrous and-yes- horrified oh damn him.. Quickswitch shifts position before he speaks, "It was done to me. The Functionist Council found my spark in Blaster City and kept me for themselves. They studied me, experimented on me," bitterness crowds his voice, "Turned me over to the Senate who assigned me to the Prime once my training is complete," he brings a hand to his face and wipes downward and sighs, "We are nothing to those with agendas. I'll try to help you if I can...and as long as I choose it." "Tell me about what bothers you most, then. What is your primary complaint in how you feel or think," Feint asks, having a seat on the floor across from Quickswitch. She reaches into a thigh compartment and takes out a datapad and stylus to begin making notes. Quickswitch's dental plate gnashes together. He's seen this all before. But he's promised he'll help.. "Feelings are like particles of silicon," he begins, "They're just there one nano-clik and then replaced by something else the next..." he says as he ponders, "Same as my thoughts.." he looks at Feint, "You're not going to write up a report and submit it to some medical journal, are you?" "No, this is for -my- benefit. IF I'm going to figure out how to help you I need to be able to look back at my notes. Because of who and what you are, even -I- don't have access to your medical files, not completely, so I have to start from scratch," Feint explains. "You know I have six modes, that I'm altmode exempt." he states, "So did my mentor, Sixshot, but he never had these problems that I do..." Quickswitch ponders, rubbing the back of his helm, "I don't know whether it's in my nature to be this way or if it's a result of the... of the proceedure /they/ had performed on me." "It doesn't seem like it should be something in your nature," Feint muses thoughtfully, scribbling down notes in neocybex, stylus gliding over the glowing surface of the datapad. "Hold on a moment let me get a look at your t-cog." And then she just... stares at him. Right at his chest. Quickswitch's optics 'blink' bemused suddenly as his chest is stared right at and, he knows, -into-. It's very surreal. His cog twists and turns restlessly, but held in check by his mind thus far, "Um, I hope everything looks up to spec.." "It looks all right - I mean, I'm just a beginning but it's really pretty incredible. There's more grooves than anyone else I've ever seen! It looks like it could power a building all by itself," Feint says with no small amount of amazement. She attempts to draw said t-cog on her notescreen. "Do you feel the urge to transform frequently?" Quickswitch finds himself frowning but pushes it away. He's been asked all these questions before by the Functionist Council, and it does not enthuse him now to be reliving this, "I guess you could say that. I transform as often as I wish, which is nearly all the time when I want to get somewhere, or even from a standing positon." "Actually I was referring to a compulsive urge to transform - you feel like you're in pain if you don't," Feint states, looking up. She tilts her head to the side. "... You have a really large sensor field, did you know that? You're lit up like a traffic signal to me." Quickswitch says, "I do...if I don't transform after awhile, but not til then," he looks over himself for something only Feint can see, comically looking over himself for whatever the sensor field looks like, "Heh. I do?" he asks, the first sign of true friendliness showing itself. "Well, it's just that I can see it... you see that's the other thing I do. I can... trick the mind into seeing, feeling or hearing things that aren't there. I've had to use it to escape trouble before." Feint makes more notes. "Most of the time I like to use it to give comfort to others - sharing feelings of happiness or contentment when it's most needed. Sort of like... a whole body hug." Such things are completely foreign to Quickswitch. All he's known other than being studied, of course, is his training thus far in his existence, "What's a hug?" It sounds ridiculous, but the larger mech truly does not know. That gives Feint pause. She sets aside the data pad and stylus, and walks over to Quickswitch. "Okay, hold out your arms," she instructs. The large Cybertronian bemusedly opens his arms, "Okay?" You would think he knows what a hug is, but no. Feint walks over to Quickswitch and embraces him. She puts her arms around his torso and rests her upper body and the side of her face against his chestplate. "This is a hug," she explains in a low, gentle tone. Quickswitch follows by putting his huge arms around Feint, almost enveloping her completely! "Ah, I see," Quickswitch remarks, "They didn't cover this in combat training. It's not unpleasant." He unwraps his arms. "That's because this isn't combat-related. This is something you'd need to know to have a normal life in society." She steps back and pats his arm, trying to comfort him. "I see they're lacking on teaching you the -truly- important things. I cannot believe they would be so shortsighted as to neglect your social development for military use... but I can see where they would get such ignorant notions. They don't see you as a -person-. They sey you as a -thing-." Quickswitch lowers his head and puts his hand to his chin, thoughtfully, as he considers this, "I've never felt a deficit..." he murmurs to himself. An inner anger glowers beneath, but it only manifests as the dour turn of his facial features and the clenching of his fists, "A -thing-," he growls, "I'm as Elite as they are!" Feint understands that anger and nods, venting a little puff of air from her thruster fans, a note of frustrated agreement. "Yes, but in their optics, some are more elite than others. I was property to be bought and sold, until Senator Halogen joined me to his house.:" Quickswitch ruminates quietly with an outward shudder and a sigh from his shoulder vents, "Why would he--" The sixchanger stops himself, "How did that happen? I've never heard of a disposible becoming a member of the Senate of all places." They also didn't teach him anything of being particularly tactful. "I sought a re-assessment, to see if maybe I could be raised to a caste above disposable... I wanted to be able to be legally bonded to my endura, Blurr; as a disposable I couldn't. You can't bond to an object, after all. I strongly believe that the knowledge of my abilities influenced the Senator to agree to this and elevate me. I'm useful, after all. You always keep a useful tool near your hand." Feint walks over to pick up her datapad again. Quickswitch nods solemnly, "That you do..." This poor, poor femme.. I wonder what would have befall her had she not raised her caste and gotten a conjunx endura.. He perks up, "Do you have any other questions?" She scoops up the devices and makes a few more notes. "Nothing yet, I'll take what I know and see if I can't figure out the best way to help you. Of course, the truth is that helping you would be getting you away from all this and letting you have time to grow and develop yourself at your own pace, but beggars can't be choosers." "I couldn't imagine being away from 'all this,'" he half smiles. It is, indeed, all I know. "But I do appreciate your interest in trying to help me." Quick looks around his tornado'd quarters embarrassingly, noticing it for the first time. Indeed, he does need help. Feint chuckles a little. "I'll see if they'll let you go out to visit places with me. You need to see this planet and be able to enjoy it. How can you be an effective guard if you don't now anything about who and what you're guarding?" She asks. "I have ways of being /very/ persuasive when I want to be. I'm sure they'll agree that your education needs to be more than just marksmanship and katas." Quickswitch grins enthusiastically, "You will? Thank you!" Love to experience the outside a little. I wonder if Banzaitron would allow Shiftlock to accompany us, he thinks to himself, then he chuckles, "Nothin' wrong with marksmanship and katas." "How about we trade, then? I'll show you around, let you meet people, get you books, and you teach me what you know about fighting," Feint asks. "That way we can both benefit." "Hmmm..." Quick nods to himself, "Yes... Yes. That would work..." he looks down at Feint after a moment, "It's a deal, then."